Toes Are Awkward
by Otterling
Summary: Short one shot inspired by a drawing from DeviantArt. Sam and Dean try to help Castiel understand the meaning of toes and why humans have them. Just for the sheer giggles. Complete lack of angst here.


**TOES ARE AWKWARD**

Written by Rebecca Scott

**A/N:** This story was inspired by SixString Phonic from Deviant Art. The image that inspired this can be found here: .com/gallery/?set=9364640&offset=24#/d2tq4xy

I make no money off this, it's just to make people smile, and it's for the giggles of it.

It had been a particularly long day for the Winchester boys and the blue glow of the impala's dash showed the time as just past two am when they finally pulled into the motel parking lot. Neither brother said a word as they sat for a few long moments, their eyes locked straight ahead to the door of their room. It was Dean who finally broke the silence. "You smell like cow, dude. Get out of my car." Sam turned a furrowed brow in his brother's direction.

"Me? You're the one that landed in the…"

"Don't you _dare_ say it," Dean growled. He didn't need to be reminded verbally. The smell and the disturbing way his boot was sticking to the accelerator were already enough to have him gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. He was going to have to have the whole inside of the car shampooed to get that stench out and even the idea of leaving the Impala sitting out in the parking lot with manure crusted on her floormats was causing a nervous twitch to start below his left eye. Still, it couldn't be helped. There was no place open this late where he could take her to get cleaned.

Sam sighed and thumped his head back. "What are you complaining about? **You** weren't the one who got gored by the Niu-Tou," he sulked grumpily. He was dreading getting out of the car and from where he sat, the hotel door looked immeasurably far away. However, the throb coming from the right side of his behind was enough to convince him that the short walk to the door, while painful, would be far better than sitting in the car all night. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Dean was right. He needed a shower desperately. "Let's just get inside," he mumbled in defeat.

"I got dibs on the shower."

"HEY! Why do you get the shower first?"

"Because this case was your idea, I'm older, and, most importantly, you have an extra hole in your ass which means I'll get there faster," Dean said over his shoulder as he slid from the car and strode toward the hotel. Sam frowned and slammed the car door shut, hobbling the best he could to catch up with his brother.

"Yeah, thanks for laughing yourself silly while the nurse stitched me up, by the way."

A smile creased Dean's face as he turned back to watch Sam limp in his direction. "You shoulda seen your face when she told you to drop 'em. But hey, look on the bright side," he said jovially.

"What bright side?" Sam's tone was surly as he finally caught up to his brother.

"At least she had small hands," Dean said with a grin as he popped the door open. He missed the glare that was thrown at his back, not that it would have mattered, and sauntered into the room intent on spending at least a good 20 minutes under the hot water. His plans were interrupted, however, by the figure sitting on the end of the bed closest to the door. Sam pulled up short behind him and both men stared at the strange sight that greeted them.

Perched on the edge of the mattress, one leg thrown across the other, sat the hunched form of Castiel. His left shoe had been discarded to the floor and he was peering with great intensity at the five white digits that had been exposed with the removal of his sock. "Hello, Dean. Hello, Sam," he said distractedly as he prodded at his big toe with one finger. Dean blinked a few times and quirked an eyebrow at the odd scene before him.

"Cas. Uh….everything ok?"

Castiel didn't bother looking up as he spoke, his attention now turned to his toenail. "No. I need you and Sam to help me with something." He turned his foot slightly and wiggled his toes experimentally.

"Cas, I am NOT helping you with whatever the hell you are doing right now," Dean stated firmly, "What happens between a man and his toes needs to stay private."

Castiel blinked up at Dean in momentary confusion, his head cocking to the side. "I do not require your assistance with my vessel, Dean. I was referring to a hunt." With that he turned his attention back to his foot, his fingers prodding now at the smaller digits.

"Right. Well, can it wait till morning? We've just lived through a far more non-consensual version of Brokeback Mountain and all I want to do right now is knock the funk off me and go to sleep." Dean marched toward the bathroom as he spoke, peeling his shirt off along the way and tossing it into the only upholstered chair they had. Sam wasn't able to shunt aside his curiosity so easily though and he continued to watch with morbid fascination as Castiel brushed his fingers over his toes, spreading and wiggling them one at a time.

"Cas….what are you doing?" Sam's brow furrowed as he spoke. The angel narrowed his eyes at his toes, looking utterly mystified by them for a few moments, before finally answering Sam's question.

"Examining my vessel's toes," he stated matter-of-factly as if the answer should have been fairly obvious. Sam sighed again and took a step forward.

"Yeah, I can see that. I meant WHY? Are they broken? Did you hurt yourself?"

Castiel glanced up at Sam but didn't get a chance to answer before Dean leaned around the corner from the bathroom. "Dude, he's a freakin' ANGEL. He can just heal himself if he's got broken toes." Dean paused for consideration of his own words before speaking up again. "So…what the hell ARE you doing?" He held up a hand to stave off the obvious answer he knew was coming. "And DON'T say examining your toes. We know that. We wanna know WHY."

The angel glanced back and forth between the brothers as if checking to see if either was going to interrupt him again before speaking. "Father made humans. Nothing he does is to no purpose. I am…trying to understand the purpose of toes." He looked down again at the strange appendage perched on his knee. It wasn't that he'd never seen human feet before, he'd just never really had them himself. In the time since taking over Jimmy's body, he hadn't really stopped to get to know the fragile flesh shell that harbored his true form but a recent need to repair his vessel's shoe had given him a measure of pause to consider the matter. It had taken a fraction of a second to alter the shoe back to its pristine state but by then his curiosity had kicked in and he'd spent the last fifteen minutes trying to figure out what exactly toes were good for.

"They are…awkward," Castiel continued softly, his fingers reaching out to prod at them again. "They appear to serve no purpose aside from collecting a large amount of lint between them." The angel's voice seemed so genuinely confounded that Dean couldn't help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. Sam met his gaze and snorted down a laugh of his own before turning away to strip out of some of his layers.

"Toes are good for all kinds of stuff, Cas," the younger Winchester offered as he tossed his own filthy shirt into a pile on the floor. "I mean, it feels nice to walk barefoot through grass and sand. And I think they help with balance as well."

Castiel frowned down at his toes again. He'd never really needed to have toes for balance since that was a function performed by his wings but he supposed it made sense that humans, having no wings of their own, would need the bizarre little digits. Still, it seemed strange that God would give angels such a magnificent way to travel and balance themselves yet give humans, whom he professed to adore, these odd little lumps of flesh. Perhaps there was something to the whole walking in sand thing. Castiel would have to try it sometime to really know. "If they are used to experience additional stimulus, then why do humans cover them all the time?" He placed his barefoot onto the carpeted floor and once again wiggled his toes. The carpet was scratchy beneath his skin and there was a distinct lack of any experience he would deem worthy of needing toes to enjoy it.

"Well, feet are soft," Sam continued, "they can get damaged if you don't wear shoes all the time. We take the shoes off when we want to put our feet into something that will feel good."

"Yeah, that or to play footsie if you're a twelve year old girl like Sam," Dean cheerfully put in, earning him yet another glare from his younger brother.

"'Footsie'?" Castiel echoed, turning to Sam for an explanation.

"Uh…nevermind, Cas. Dean's just being a jerk."

"Bitch," came the reply from the bathroom where Dean had disappeared.

"Look, we protect our feet since we walk on them all day and can't afford to let them get hurt. We take our shoes off when there's no threat and we want to feel stuff on our toes," Sam finished, pointedly ignoring his brother's remarks. "Just try it sometime. Go walk in some soft grass or on a beach. You'll like it."

Castiel looked pensive for a few seconds but seemed to accept that as well enough. He looked up imploringly at Sam once again a moment later. "Sam, will you teach me how to 'play footsie'?" he asked with all sincerity.

Sam's face went three shades of red and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. "Uh..um…no. No, Cas…uh…that's…I mean….um…." A thought dawned in his mind and as the shower started up in the other room. Sam let a lazy self-satisfied grin cross his face. "Maybe you should ask Dean when he gets out of the shower. I bet he'd LOVE to play footsie with you. It's his favorite game after all."


End file.
